The Fear

You’re staring at her back from the other side of the bed and the distance has never seemed so vast. Just an arm reach away and yet you feel you could never touch her.

In the shadow of night her hair reminds you of the ocean and it looks like she’s floating away. Drifting further and further from your hold and it scares you. You bite your tongue because you’re not sure if what you have to say will bring her to you, or push her away. But you still don’t know what to do.

Your fingertips tingle and they curl and uncurl with the aching want to pull her close into your chest. The thought of her evading your attempt makes your heart hurt so you don’t. So you won’t know if she wants to be held, too.

From her side of the bed, she doesn’t see you or feel you. You’re gone to her and she hasn’t felt so alone. Her skin is cold but she’s already as curled up as she can be. Her head is swirling and she only wants you. Just you. But she only has her side of the bed and the blankets she’s wrapped so tightly around her – seemingly – small form.

Her back is draped in her hair and you want to smooth them away, you want to drag your fingers across the wide surface of her skin. Something in your head tells you she wouldn’t mind, and maybe she even wants a touch, but another part tells you she can’t stand the sight of you – why would she want you to touch her? And that keeps you at bay.

The cavity of her chest feels so big and her heart feels so small and it’s not much to make her feel it, too. The bed has never felt more like an ocean and the lack of warmth has never felt so infinite.

If she didn’t feel so much like drowning, she’d tell you to be brave.


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